I hate being a tourist. I’m a homebody, secure in my daily routine, and it’s uncomfortable for me to pack up my life and relocate for a while. But at the same time, I’m very aware of the fact that this is a privilege. Those 40+ school visits paid for this trip, but having extra income streams is also a privilege when so many people in this region want work and can’t find it. I show Life & Debt when I’m teaching my students about the effects of globalization, and we read Jamaica Kincaid’s A Small Place. Everyone is a native of some place, but not every native gets to become a tourist; according to Kincaid, natives have nothing but contempt for tourists who have the wealth and mobility to leave their own boring existence in order to pursue “the exotic.” The Caribbean seems like paradise to many tourists, but that’s not how most natives experience their homeland. I realize now that the reason I could afford this hotel is because it’s their slow season, and that means a loss of income for people whose livelihoods depend on tourist dollars. I just booked a morning tour of the island and appreciated my taxi driver’s honesty earlier today when I asked her about the economy. Judging from the number of luxury condos that are under construction, I thought maybe there was a building boom. But who do you think those condos are for? Not the natives. And here I am in my pretty little bungalow with the a/c on—I ordered Indian food for dinner and (thanks to satellite TV) watched the local NYC news, PBS, and BBC America before finally forcing myself to find a channel with local programming (The People’s Show). I’m not a native, but I need to think of myself as something other than a tourist. A researcher? Prospective immigrant? Maybe I’ll have to settle for being a “better” tourist. It helps that everyone seems to know my aunt—just mentioning her name changes the way people look at me, I think…
How can you be a tourist in the sense that Kincaid critiques?! You bring so much sensitivity and history to your experience of visiting, which makes you shed the hubris she and others hate about tourists. Be yourself in all its glory!!
Hey, Jane! I definitely don’t see myself as the stereotypical obnoxious American tourist, but that doesn’t mean the locals make the same distinction. I don’t feel “white guilt” but I’m probably tipping too much out of a desire to redistribute what wealth I do have…this morning I walked into the dining room and the white couple eating breakfast ignored me; then two more whites walked in and the couple wished them a good morning. I’m not “the help” in their eyes—so I don’t exist? It’s a bizarre in-between space to occupy, though I should be used to it by now. Hybridity…
egads. you see so much from your perch. I value what your hybridity enables you to see… and write.